


I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues (The Smile Has Left Your Eyes)

by Trickster88



Category: Psych
Genre: Gen, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickster88/pseuds/Trickster88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filling a <a href="http://www.psychfic.com/community/showthread.php?t=1876">prompt</a> from <a href="http://www.psychfic.com">Psychfic</a>. Written for <a href="http://www.casestory.livejournal.com/profile">Casestory</a>.</p><p>Gus has been brutally attacked and is now hanging onto life. All of the evidence seems to be pointed towards Shawn and Gus's latest case involving a vicious gang of juvenile delinquents, but nothing is solid enough to nail them to the attack.</p><p>Meanwhile, Mrs. Guster becomes enraged by grief and blames Shawn for the ordeal. Unable to so much as visit his comatose best friend out of guilt, Shawn is determined to catch Gus's assailants and bring them to justice.</p><p>Will Shawn find those responsible? Will Gus ever wake up?</p><p>Would Shawn even be able to face him if he did?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues (The Smile Has Left Your Eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my lovely beta [sprl1199](http://www.sprl1199.livejournal.com/profile) for helping me out with this story - her comments were encouraging and useful, and altogether fantastic!
> 
> Next, thanks to [princess_vevay](http://www.princess_vevay.livejournal.com/profile) for claiming my fic and making the banner I absolutely adore! The wallpaper and fanmix are perfect as well (especially the fanmix, it portrays the feelings in this fic acutely <3)
> 
> You can check out the art [here @ her journal](http://princess-vevay.livejournal.com/95076.html).
> 
> The title was taken from a few 80's hits: Elton John's [I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h6KYAVn8ons) and Asia's [The Smile Has Left Your Eyes](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DnLVsGuJ5GQ).
> 
> Enjoy the fic!

  


***

The first thing Gus noticed as he stepped outside and turned to lock the _Psych_ door was that it was unseasonably chilly. He pulled his arms in towards his body as he turned his key, quickly pulling it out of the lock and turning sharply on his heel towards his car.

Maybe if he hadn't been so focused on the chill, he would have seen them.

The figure caught Gus in the side of the head with a piece of piping, forcing him off _Psych's_ porch. Gus stumbled as something connected with the back of his head, and he cracked his noggin into the concrete.

The figure straddled him, bringing the pipe down again and again on his bald head, smashing his nose and shattering his cheekbone. All Gus could think – inanely - through his pain was, _I should have worn a jacket._

The figure tossed the pipe aside and stood up, but Gus could not bring himself to escape. Blood oozed down his face, and the beating continued.

Gus's assailant kicked him sharply, a well-placed kick between the ribs, and Gus was sure one of his ribs was broken. More than one foot was hitting him; there had to be more than one attacker. 

One, two, three, and _it's really cold outside_. 

Gus vaguely heard something crunch as the kicking stopped and pressure bore down on his left and right arms. He couldn’t move, the pain was too much, he was too cold, and all of his energy was just _gone_...

"That's what you get." The figure hissed at him, and he muttered a few more words Gus couldn't quite make out. He _knew_ the word his attacker had just said, it meant something important, but he just couldn't figure it out...

The attackers left, and Gus lay there. He couldn't get to his phone. He couldn't crawl away. His blood continued to flow at a steady pace, and all Gus could think about was how damn cold he was, how maybe if he'd worn a jacket he would've seen the figure, would have been able to fight back...

The dawn arrived, and Gus was relieved to find he was able to slip into blissful unconsciousness and escape the chill that had seeped into his bones.

***

Shawn waited at the stoplight impatiently. He had an idea as to the motive for _Psych's_ latest case, and he wanted to bounce it off Gus (even though it was absolutely correct), before divining it for Chief Vick. 

The light finally turned green, and Shawn weaved his way through the 8 AM traffic towards the _Psych_ office. He saw the little blue car and smiled beneath his helmet. 

But something wasn't right. There was the burger wrapper Shawn had left there yesterday, clearly visible in Gus's back window. He cleaned his car out every night. 

So, Gus hadn't left the office last night.

But all of the windows had the blinds pulled, and Shawn could sense that the door was locked. Where could Gus be?

Shawn's eyes widened as he spotted the bald figure lying on the concrete. He slammed his foot on the gas, whipping down the rows of storefronts to screech to a stop before _Psych_. Shawn abandoned his bike and threw his helmet violently into the grass as he sprinted for his friend.

"Oh my God, Gus!" Shawn whispered, gaping at his friend. There was so much _blood_...

Shawn quickly checked for a pulse, and felt the air return to his lungs when he realized Gus was still alive. He quickly pulled out his cell phone and dialed for 911.

" _911, what's your emergency?_ " 

"My name is Shawn Spencer and my best friend was attacked. I just found him outside of our business, there's a shitload of blood. Down at the boardwalk, 700 San Vicente Blvd. I need an ambulance STAT." Shawn's voice was low, sharp, and quick. He could hear the 911 operator quickly dispatching an ambulance and police officers to his location.

 _"Alright Shawn-"_ Shawn cut them off, eyes skimming over Gus's body.

"Broken nose and cheekbone, both arms fractured, three broken ribs, airways are clear, about 3 or 4 pints of blood lost, he's going to need a hell of a lot of transfusions, possible hypothermia, _shit,_ Gus..." Shawn cleared his throat and continued rattling off Gus's injuries and information for them to pass off to the medics so they could be prepared when they arrived. He could hear the sirens, and Shawn didn't dare touch his friend. 

"-concussion, possible infection in several lacerations-" Shawn looked up as the ambulance finally pulled up to the office. He waved wildly, and three paramedics wheeled a stretcher and equipment towards him.

"They're here." Shawn said to the 911 operator, in lieu of a goodbye, and promptly hung up. He watched darkly as the medics began helping Gus and hit 3 on his speed dial.

" _Hello-"_ Shawn cut the Head Detective off.

"Gus was attacked. I want a full comb of this entire area. Two mile radius extending from the _Psych_ office."

_"Spencer, are you pulling some sort of prank?"_

"Lassiter, _do I sound like I'm joking_? Get a fucking team here NOW." Shawn growled, running to get his helmet as Gus was loaded into an ambulance. He grabbed it and turned, spotting something beneath a bush. He didn't stop to look at it, sprinting for his bike and kicking it to life.

"The weapon is beneath a bush outside the office. Hurry the hell up!" Shawn ordered, when he didn't hear Lassiter moving. He shoved the phone in his pocket and began following the ambulance as its lights turned on.

Whoever had done this was going to _pay._ Shawn would make damn sure of it.

***

Gus was in Intensive Care, and it took two hours after he had been brought in before Shawn received any word on his friend. By then, Juliet had joined him, watching quietly as he paced.

"How is he?" Shawn demanded, as soon as the doctor entered the waiting room. He shot Juliet a look before answering Shawn.

"Not well. Mr. Guster was very brutally attacked, leaving him with three broken ribs, a broken nose, a fractured cheekbone, two fractured arms, blood loss, a concussion, ten infected lacerations, and severe bruising. His fractures will heal fine, and the transfusions were a success, but we're worried about the infection. His concussion seems to have put him in a coma, and that is an important concern as well. We'll know more on his condition in a few hours, but to be honest, it's not looking very good." Shawn nodded fiercely. He liked this doctor-he wasn't one to beat around the bush and try to let you down gently. 

Suddenly, the waiting room doors flew open with a bang, making Juliet and the doctor jump. Shawn just watched as his father and Mr. and Mrs. Guster burst into the room.

"Shawn!" Henry cried, quickly making his way to grab his son. Shawn gave him a confused look - Mr. and Mrs. Guster were on Gus's emergency list, but why was his dad here?

"Mr. and Mrs. Guster called me. We assumed if Gus had been attacked by the _Psych_ offices, that you had been injured too." Henry read Shawn's mind. He watched his son carefully. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I found him this morning." Shawn answered, though it was directed at Mr. and Mrs. Guster. Mr. Guster held his wife's hand tightly and led her to sit down. 

The doctor kindly explained Gus's condition again, and Mrs. Guster broke down crying. Henry awkwardly released Shawn; apparently relieved he was alright but worried for Gus.

"My baby..." Mrs. Guster whispered, and Shawn plopped down into a chair next to Juliet. She looked at him, concerned.

"Shawn...you don't think this has something to do with the Jokers case the Chief gave you last week, do you?" He stared at her, uncomprehending. Juliet sighed, resting a hand on his arm as she lowered her voice to a whisper.

"Well, Lassiter found a piece of piping under the bush outside the office, and, well, pipe _is_ their weapon of choice." She bit her lip, and Shawn's eyes softened, despite his torment.

"Jules, they're just kids." Her eyebrows pulled together sadly.

"They're _dangerous_ kids who beat people with pipes!" Shawn's eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a tight line.

"Are you trying to say I-" Juliet cut him off.

"No! I'm not trying in any way to insinuate that this is your fault! If anything, it's the department's fault for giving you the case. I'm just trying to ask if you've gotten any threats from them, if maybe they figured out you were snooping around...?" Shawn looked at her for a long moment before slumping down in his chair and sighing. 

"No. No Jules, I don't think they know. I haven't gotten any threats." They lapsed into silence, the only noise an occasional sniffle from Mrs. G.

Shawn watched the door, and when the doctor whose name he hadn't bothered to catch walked into the room nearly _four hours later_ , he was the first one up. 

"How is he?" The doctor looked at him with grave eyes, and Shawn felt his stomach plummet.

"We've had a complication." Mrs. G got up and hurried to Shawn's side, dragging her husband with her.

"What kind of complication, doctor?" Shawn's mind raced back through everything he had seen of Gus's condition, and he paled.

"His appendix punctured." Shawn spoke simultaneously with the doctor, and everyone, including his father, looked at him in surprise. Shawn made a vague motion towards his temple and turned back to the doctor.

"...Yes, that is correct. His appendix ruptured and we had to remove it. Folks, I'm afraid I cannot be sure whether or not Mr. Guster will survive." Shawn's head was spinning. No. No. Gus couldn't die. _No._

"The operation was a success, but coupled with the infection and the coma, his chances of survival have taken a severe hit. I will be back when we have more information." The doctor gave them a sympathetic look and departed, leaving them all shell-shocked.

"This is your fault." Mrs. G whispered, after a time. Shawn's eyes flickered to hers, and he stumbled back at the anger he saw there.

"Wh-" She cut him off before he could get a single word out.

"I heard you and that detective talking. _Your_ case brought my baby to his _deathbed_. He should be focused on his real job! He should have a house, and a family!" Mrs. G's voice was getting louder, higher, and angrier with each passing word.

"Mrs. Guster-" Juliet began, only to be silenced with a severe look.

"They aren't detectives! They shouldn't be messing around with dangerous criminals! You said you'd look after my baby, Shawn, but all you ever do is get him into trouble! Now look what you've done!" Tears were streaming down her face, and Shawn was speechless. 

"Shawn hasn't done any-" Even Henry was cut short.

"If he _dies_ ," Her voice was a dangerous growl now. Shawn took a step back. "I'll _kill you_."

"Winnie!" Mr. G shouted at his wife, but she wouldn't listen. Shawn's mouth hung open. He couldn't deal with this.

"Stay away from him! GET OUT!" Mrs. G screamed at him, stepping forward to slap Shawn across the face. 

Juliet, Mr. G, and Henry shouted in outrage at the same time, but Shawn and Mrs. G just stared at each other. His eyes were popped in shock, while hers only revealed cold anger.

"Promise me you'll stay away from him. I want him safe." Shawn stared at the woman, cradling his cheek, before he looked down at his shoes.

"I promise." 

***

Lassiter sighed and took a sip of his coffee. McNabb approached him carefully, wordlessly holding out a couple of folders. Lassiter deposited them on his desk, sipping his coffee again.

When Spencer had phoned him demanding a team over at his office, Lassiter had thought it was some sort of stupid joke the psychic was trying to pull.

But then Lassiter had heard something he'd never heard in Spencer's voice before. It was _that_ note, the one without a name, but one Lassiter knew well. The tick in a voice when your partner was injured and you were hell bent on catching the perps who did it.

So Lassiter had gathered a team, and headed over to the beachfront office. He'd waved off the rookies that had taped the crime scene and were filling out a report, and had McNabb check under the bushes. 

Spencer was right-the weapon had been there, a piece of pipe about six inches long, two inches wide. It was to be dusted for prints and other genetic evidence before undergoing tests to find out exactly what type of metal it was, but Lassiter already knew they wouldn't find any damning evidence there. He couldn't tell you why, but he just _knew_. This had to be premeditated. It had to be. 

Lassiter opened the first folder, and his prediction was confirmed. Nothing conclusive on the weapon. It was an iron pipe, but that was nothing to go on.

Putting the lab test aside for the moment, Lassiter moved on to the next folder. This was a list of Shawn and Gus's enemies. Surprisingly, there weren't that many people out to get them. Only a handful of the criminals they had apprehended were out of jail, and of that handful, only a few were still in the Santa Barbara area.

Lassiter knew it was inappropriate at the moment, he really did, but he found himself admiring their record. Over fifty cases solved, and with such overwhelming amounts of evidence that the court had easily tossed the perps into the system without any monumental dispute. 

"McNabb, get these people in here." Lassiter called, quickly copying down the names of everyone Shawn and Gus had busted that were still in the area and handing it off to the younger officer before looking more closely at the files, picking out family and friends of the perps that were still behind bars.

A few hours later, Lassiter still had nothing. Shawn and Gus's record was near-immaculate, God-dammit!

Finally, the head detective turned to the third and final file. This was the case Chief Vick had assigned the psychic duo a few days prior, and probably Lassiter's best lead at the moment.

"The Jokers." Lassiter muttered in disgust, biting into an apple. The Jokers were the most prominent youth gang in Santa Barbara. They consisted of 16, 17, and 18 year olds from Eastland High School, the dump of the public school system. They caused trouble, they were a drain on society, and Lassiter hated every last cruddy one of them. Shitty JDs, on the fast track to _nowhere_. 

Normally, O'Hara would have pulled him the hell out of this sort of thinking, but she wasn't there at the moment. She was off at the hospital with Spencer, waiting for news on Gus, and Lassiter didn't even let himself think about what it might mean that she hadn't called him yet. 

Lassiter flipped the page, skimming for information relevant to Gus's attack. So the JDs liked to play with pipe, eh? There was the M.O. There was some probable cause.

Of course, Lassiter still hadn't ruled out the... _four_ criminals that might have a grudge against the psychic and his assistant, but really, the head detective was far more confident in the Joker lead. For obvious reasons.

"McNabb!" Lassiter yelled, and the younger officer came running. 

"Sir, I've got the people you asked for in the conference room, I was just about to as-" Lassiter cut him off, slapping the case file into his hands.

"McNabb, I want these kids brought in for questioning. You are my new partner while O'Hara is off looking after Guster. Got it?" McNabb's eyes widened, and Lassiter stood up, tossing the apple core into the trash can. 

He could have gotten a temporary detective partner from upstairs, but Lassiter knew McNabb was more than qualified to be promoted to detective. 

And he complied instantaneously with whatever Lassiter asked of him. 

While O'Hara was obviously occupying Lassiter's one and only partner spot, (an undisputable position she had earned for several reasons in Lassiter's book), it was nice to have someone get things done without question.

Lassiter moved towards the conference room, but stopped when he saw one Shawn Spencer entering the station. 

By God, were those _tears_?

"Spencer!" Lassiter shouted, and Shawn's head snapped up. Lassiter's brow furrowed-something else had happened, Lassiter could feel it in his gut. He was sure of it. 

"What-what's going on Lassie?" Shawn wiped away a few tears and Lassiter stared at him. The nickname had been half-assed. Something was definitely up.

"We've got a few suspects on Guster's attack in the conference room. Want to help?" Shawn didn't even bother making fun of Lassiter asking him for help, just nodded silently and allowed the head detective to lead the way to the ex-convicts. 

"No. None of them." Shawn said immediately, before Lassiter had a chance to explain who the four people were. Of course Spencer would know them.

"Why not? They're top of the suspect list, Spencer." Lassiter raised an eyebrow, and Shawn's expression suddenly turned violently angry.

"They all have alibis, Lassiter." Lassiter started at the absence of the nickname. "Hannah teaches astrology class every Tuesday, Rex was on a date with Tim, and Annie was on a Girl Scout camping trip. Satisfied?" 

"How the hell do you know that?" Lassiter asked gruffly, unbalanced by Shawn's anger. 

"I'm a psychic. And we're friends. How do you _not_ know this, detective?" It clicked, then. Shawn was redirecting his mysterious anger and aiming it at Lassiter.

"Spencer, what the hell has got you so irritated? And before you bother," Lassiter grabbed Shawn's arm, dragging him into the alcove by the benches. "I have a bullshit detector I just replaced the batteries in."

"My God Lassiter, was that a joke?" Normally, Shawn's tone would be light and that sentence would be accompanied by a smile, but now it was seeped with venom and simply sounded like an insult.

"Spencer..." Lassiter growled a warning, before a look of confusion crossed his face. "What the hell happened to your cheek?" It had been red-tinged, but now faint bruising was starting to appear.

Shawn laughed bitterly. "Took you long enough. Some detective you are." Shawn jerked his arm out of Lassiter's grip, backing towards the doors.

"It wasn't them. Call me when you actually _have_ something. Oh wait, you _won't._ I'll end up solving the case for you. Never mind." Shawn turned on his heel, and paused on his way out the door. 

"Glad to know Santa Barbara's _finest_ are on the ball!" He left the police station. Lassiter just stood there, angry, frustrated, but above all, worried.

Spencer had always been better than him at detective work, had taken every chance to remind him of this fact, but never, _never_ , had he ever been mean-spirited about it. 

As Lassiter turned back to head towards the conference room to confirm the information Shawn had provided him with, Lassiter knew he was going to need a hell of a lot more coffee. 

***

Shawn stormed out of the police station, mind reeling. Had he really just done that to Lassie? Shawn knew he had only been trying to help. 

"Grah!" Shawn kicked the wheel of his bike, and it wobbled dangerously. Just what he needed-a damaged bike, destroyed in a moment of rage. Abso-fucking-tastic.

Shawn steadied the bike before it could fall over and climbed atop it, kicking it to a start and pulling his helmet over his head.

Shawn shot off down the street, weaving haphazardly through traffic. He blinked back tears impatiently.

 _Is it really_ my _fault?_ Shawn asked himself, slowing the bike down. He was the one who forced Gus into this business; he was the one who constantly put their lives in danger, and for what? A little thrill, a little money? None of it was worth it if it meant that his friend _died_...

And this wasn't just any friend, this was _Gus_. 

If Gus was gone, Shawn wasn't sure he'd be able to survive it. 

_I'm_ going _to find them._ Shawn told himself, guiding his bike towards the _Psych_ office. 

***

Juliet rushed into the station, frazzled. Her phone had died, so she hadn't been able to place a call to Shawn, after he ran out, nor to her partner. 

"Lassiter!" Juliet cried, running over to him. Her partner looked up from a file, irritation plain on his face. It softened when he realized it was her.

"Where the hell have you been, O'Hara?" She sat down at her desk and rolled over to Lassiter's, exhausted. "Spencer was in here _hours_ ago."

"I was at the hospital. They're not sure if Gus is going to make it." Lassiter seemed surprised by the news, but Juliet backtracked.

"Wait, Shawn was here?" Lassiter nodded, brow furrowed as he thought about Gus's condition. "I don't suppose he told you what happened..."

"What happened?" Lassiter asked sharply, tapping a pencil on his desk. "What on God's green earth got Spencer away from Guster's side?"

Juliet bit her lip. "Gus's mother blamed Shawn for the attack. And then she slapped him." 

"She _what_?" Lassiter stood up, but Juliet pulled him back down.

"She blamed Shawn." Lassiter shook his head in disgust. Juliet sighed and rubbed a comforting trail down his arm.

"He _was_ acting oddly angry." Lassiter muttered, and Juliet nodded.

"So what have you got?" Juliet asked, after a moment of silence. Lassiter shook himself out of his thoughts, shuffling around a few papers as Juliet awkwardly released his arm.

"All of my leads are non-starters, except for the Jokers case. They seem to be the only possible suspects at this point." Lassiter scratched at his forehead. "McNabb should be bringing them in soon."

Juliet nodded, and after a moment of hesitation, asked, "Lassiter, how are you?"

He looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Well," She bit her lip. "How are you? Are you...okay?" 

Lassiter raised an eyebrow. "I should think so."

They sat awkwardly looking at each other for a long moment, when a flurry of movement from the station entrance caught their attention. 

Lassiter stood up and quickly made his way over to one Buzz McNabb, who had just entered the station with three kids in his grasp. Juliet followed, and they each relieved Buzz of one the kids.

"Come on." Lassiter growled, dragging his kid down towards the interrogation room. The kid twisted, fighting his grip, as did the kids in Juliet and Buzz's grips.

"Hey." Juliet said, releasing her kid. He looked at her, nodded thankfully, and walked of his own will without fighting. 

Buzz exchanged a look with Juliet before releasing his captive as well, but Lassiter wasn't paying any attention to them. His kid squirmed and flailed, but his grip only tightened.

Wait, was that a _girl_?

Juliet looked at all of the kids carefully as they marched into the interrogation room, noting that they were all grimy and intimidating. The one Lassiter had was a girl, although it could conceivably be hard to tell, as her dark, red hair was cropped short and her face was smeared with dirt. The other two were boys; one with longish, dirty blond hair, the other light brown, both with dirt on their faces as well.

As Lassiter would say, _'cruddy JDs'_. Juliet shook her head sadly. Literally.

"These are the three 'leaders', sir." Buzz informed Lassiter, and the kids sat somewhat grudgingly at the table.

"Hey, look, we ain't done nothin'." The long haired blond spat, and Lassiter glared at him. He didn't flinch.

"How old are you?" Lassiter questioned fiercely, and the brown haired boy spoke up. 

"We're all 17. That's Esther," He pointed to the blond girl. "Oliver, and I'm Ryan."

"Well, Ryan," Lassiter spat his name like it was a cuss word. "I hear you guys like to play with pipes, huh?"

Ryan shrugged. "I plead the 5th."

He leaned back, and the other teens exchanged looks before clamping their mouths shut. 

"What exactly do you think we did?" Esther asked casually. A vein in Lassiter's temple bulged.

"There was an attack last night. I have reason to believe your gang is responsible." Ryan shrugged again.

"We didn't do it. We're innocent." Buzz looked from Lassiter to Ryan before speaking up.

"But you resisted arrest." The boy looked up at the officer, amused.

"And you tackled us into the dirt - sorry about that by the way; we were nice and clean before." Ryan flashed a bright, white smile before continuing. "We've done a lot of things. We couldn't know exactly what you were trying to run us in for, so it's just safer to flee." Ryan, Oliver, and Esther all smirked at the same time.

"And it's entertaining." Oliver added, still smirking. Lassiter looked about ready to shoot somebody.

"We've done a lot of things," Esther continued. "But that attack isn't one of them."

"Oh really?" Lassiter's eyes narrowed. "Last night. Somewhere between 9 and 11 PM. Beaten with an iron _pipe_." 

"Wasn't us." Lassiter's jaw clenched, and Juliet stepped in.

"When you say, 'us', do you mean you three, or your gang as a whole? It's possible that someone else-" Ryan cut her off with a snort.

"Look lady, nobody does anything without our approval. They do, they get their ass kicked. They know the pecking order. Nobody would have acted alone." Oliver looked at Juliet curiously.

"Who was it that was attacked?" Ryan shot him a look, but Oliver ignored him.

"Burton Guster. He's assistant to Shawn Spencer at the Psychic Detective Agency by the beachfront." Juliet answered quickly, before Lassiter could cut in with something rude.

" _Psych_? You think we attacked _them_?" Ryan asked incredulously, as if this were one of the most ridiculous things he'd ever heard. 

" _Psych_ is awesome! We love those guys, they're dope!" Oliver objected.

"Is he okay?" Esther asked, worried. Juliet exchanged a look with Buzz. 

Lassiter, meanwhile, was pissed. So the Jokers were _fans_? What the hell?! Spencer was too fucking likable for a proper investigation, _dammit_. 

"Do you have any ideas on someone who might have attacked him? Another gang, perhaps?" Buzz asked. Esther, Ryan, and Oliver looked at each other, thinking about it, before shaking their heads. 

"Either they think they're dope, or they don't particularly care." Ryan answered. Esther had fire in her eyes.

"Don't worry though, we'll figure it out. We'll catch the son of a bitch." The other two nodded in agreement, and Juliet exchanged another nervous look with Buzz. They didn't need to start a gang war...

"Get them out of here." Lassiter ordered quietly. 

"Wha-" Juliet started, but Lassiter cut her off. 

"GET THEM THE HELL OUT OF MY STATION!" Buzz jumped, herding the kids out of the room. Juliet sat down in one of the recently vacated chairs and simply waited.

"When Spencer was in here earlier," Lassiter started quietly, after a solid minute. "He said...I wouldn't normally let it bother me, I _don't_ let things like this bother me...but there's just _nothing_ , and Guster...Guster's my colleague and if I don't catch a lead...Spencer was right. I can't do my job." 

Juliet placed a hand over Lassiter's, and he looked up, ashamed that he had let his emotions get the better of him.

"You're a _great_ detective." 

They sat there, wondering just who had been out to get their friend, and how they were ever going to fix this.

***

When Gus woke up, he was alone.

He didn't think this was particularly strange - the window was dark, visiting hours were probably over. Everything in his body ached, and then he remembered the attack. 

It took Gus a second to calm himself, but then he was alright, he was safe, he was in a hospital, and he was going to live.

Gus tried to reach the nurse call button, because he was hungry, it was dark, and he didn't particularly want to be alone. But he couldn't reach it; his arm was shaking, and it _hurt_.

Gus lay back in his pillows, and noticed the heart monitor. What else could he do? He wanted a nurse in there already.

"Alright." Gus muttered, closing his eyes and conjuring up every scary thing he'd ever seen. It didn't take long to go through his memories of about three cases, and by the time he was finished he was covered in sweat and the heart monitor was going nuts. An alarm was going off somewhere, and Gus let out a deep breath as he steadied himself.

A nurse burst in, intent upon sedating him, and she didn't even notice he was awake.

"Hi." Gus croaked, and she jumped. She's pretty-probably about 28, brunette. Her sparkly blue eyes widened and she froze before giving him the sedative.

"You're awake!" She cried, before blushing in embarrassment. Gus released a rough laugh, and she stared at him for another minute before rushing to get him some water.

"How-how long have I been out for?" Gus coughed, after drinking enough of the water to get his throat sufficiently wet.

"About two weeks, sir." Gus's eyes bulged, and he coughed violently. The nurse helped him sit up, and he recovered. 

"Two-two weeks? Shit." She laughed a little, and her smile reassured Gus.

"Your mother called into your work, sir. You're going to be fine, now that you've woken up. Let me call a doctor." She did so, and Gus lay quietly on the bed.

Man, was Shawn going to be on his _ass_ for missing a whole _two weeks_. 

Gus smiled giddily at the thought, and spent the next twenty minutes before he fell asleep again in happiness, safe in the knowledge that he was going to be fine, and that his best friend would be there when he woke up. 

***

"Hey, Dad." Shawn entered the kitchen, and Henry looked up from his paper. His son looked dead-tired, defeated, and altogether ruffled. 

"Hey kiddo." Henry greeted quietly. Shawn sauntered over to a chair and plopped himself into it.

They spent a moment in companionable silence, before Henry knew he had to break it. No matter how cliché it was, Shawn needed to hear what he had to say.

"It wasn't your fault." Henry started quietly. Shawn said nothing, instead choosing to stare out the glass doors. "You couldn't have known."

"There had to be clues, Dad. I didn't see them." Shawn answered, scarily calm. Henry folded his hands, surprisingly patient. "I still can't. I can't find the people who attacked him."

"You will. Just give it time." Henry reached out to touch Shawn's arm, the skin contact easing some of Shawn's pain. Some, but not nearly enough to make him feel like he wasn't dying inside.

"What about that Jokers case? How's that lead?" Henry asked, after a minute of silence. Shawn sighed, shaking his head sadly.

"Lassiter, Juliet, and Buzz are pursuing it, but it's not going to go anywhere. They didn't do it. I know they didn't." Henry raised an eyebrow at Shawn's certainty. You could never be certain of anything with a case.

"How do you know?" Shawn didn't answer. Henry asked again. "How do you know?"

"I just _do_ , Dad. I just do. I know it's not good enough, but you can't force me to investigate those kids." Henry shook his head in disgust, unable to hide is irritation at Shawn's bull-headedness.

"Shawn, you can't _choose_ not to investigate a lead! That's not-" Shawn cut him off.

"Yes I can!" Shawn paused, a dark undercurrent coloring his voice. "It's not how _real_ detectives do it, but it's how I do it. I'm not investigating that lead. It’s a waste of time." 

Shawn stood up, shaking, and made his way to the door. He turned, sadness and anger painted across his face.

"I don't need you telling me how to conduct my investigation." And then, Shawn left. 

A few seconds later the screen door eased shut, the house stilled, and it was as if Shawn had never been there at all.

***

When Gus woke up the second time, Shawn wasn't there.

Gus didn't know what to make of this, but then his parents burst in and it didn't matter. Well, it did matter, but Gus was too distracted by his sobbing mother to mention it.

When they had finally, thankfully, been booted out by his nurse, Ashley, Gus managed to ask her to call Shawn for him. She did, but it had gone straight to voicemail and ten minutes later Gus had been forced to take his pain medication and go to sleep.

***

The third time Gus woke up, Shawn _still_ wasn't there.

By now Gus was suitably annoyed. Ashley came in and told him Juliet had called while he was out, but no contact of any kind had been received from the psychic.

Gus huffed in annoyance, glaring at his IV. Shawn couldn't take _five minutes_ to call his best friend, who'd been in a coma for two weeks? What the hell!

"Ready for lunch, Mr. Guster?" Ashley asked with a smile, rolling in a bed tray. Gus plastered a smile on his face and tried not to cry.

***

In four days, Gus was ready to wring Shawn's neck with his bare hands. A postcard. He would have settled for a freakin' _postcard_!

Nothing. His parents stopped in every day, and Joy finally managed to get emergency time off to see him. Juliet called every couple of days, informing him of their hard work trying to catch the gang they suspected was behind his attack. 

Gus assumed Shawn was with them, and every time he was about to complain about the fact that Juliet had made an effort where his best friend had not, she had to run. Gus cursed every time, vowing to spit it out the next time she called. Maybe she knew what the hell was ailing Shawn.

"Here're your release forms, Gus." Ashley said warmly, handing him the paperwork. Gus didn't feel weak anymore. In fact, he was _angry_. Angrier than he'd ever been.

Shawn was going to _get it_.

"He'd better have a damn good explanation." Gus muttered, changing into fresh clothes. His mother was going to drive him home, but then he was going after one Shawn Spencer. 

Oh, Gus was going to tear his ass _apart_!

"Bye, Gus!" Ashley leaned down to hug him in the wheelchair before Mrs. Guster helped him into the car. Gus had a cane to use, and boy did he have fun imagining ways to kick Shawn's ass with it!

"Thanks, Mom." Gus said, and Mrs. Guster smiled. He was alive - that was good enough for her.

They spent most of the ride in silence, comfortable silence, but silence all the same. Gus didn't think he could tell her about his problem with Shawn - his parents had never fully approved of their friendship, even if they supposedly had a revelation a Christmas or two ago. 

Secretly, Gus had a deep, buried suspicion that it was because Shawn was white. 

But of course, his parents couldn't be racist! 

Could they?

Gus shook off the thought, flipping on the radio as his mother happily made her way back to his apartment.

_"Shout,  
Shout,  
Let it all out.  
These are the things I can do without."_

Gus started, surprised by the song. _Shout._ Didn't _that_ bring back memories...

_"Come on,  
I'm talking to you,  
Come on."_

Gus smiled to himself, remembering the dance moves, costumes, and misplaced references that had gone into the performance. They had been working to protect a judge - the infamous Nigel St. Nigel - on the show _American Duos_. 

Undercover, of course, as contestants. A job well done and long-time fantasies fulfilled - all in a day’s work at _Psych_.

_"Shout,  
Shout,  
Let it all out.  
These are the things I can do without..."_

***

Juliet O'Hara sat at her desk, frustrated. She flipped through a file, rubbing a hand back and forth across her neck. No matter how far they dug, how many kids they dragged in, no leads appeared. 

Buzz McNabb walked over to her, clutching a few more folders. All of these kids had rap sheets a mile long - you couldn't narrow the suspects down. All of their alibis were questionable. 

"Detective Lassiter is bringing a few more in." Buzz informed Juliet, who nodded with a sigh. She was determined to crack this case but...

 _Shawn would have solved this by now._ Juliet thought, standing up and moving away from her desk. Shawn hadn't been responding to any form of contact though, and he was never at the _Psych_ office when she stopped by. 

He hadn't left town - Juliet was sure he wouldn't leave until whoever had hurt Gus was caught - but he didn't want to be found and thus, no one could find him. Henry hadn't heard from him since the day Gus had woken up...

"Juliet!" Gus hurried over to her as fast as his cane would allow. He had a slight limp, and only a few visible bandages. Otherwise, there was nothing to indicate he had been fighting for his life but a few days ago. 

"Gus!" Juliet met him halfway. He had an angry glint in his eye, and she took a step backwards.

"Where's Shawn?" Gus demanded, and Juliet's brow furrowed. She couldn't tell him what his mother had said. He wouldn't believe her. It wasn't her place.

"I-I don't know. Nobody's been able to get a hold of him." Gus's eyes popped in shock.

"Is he missing?!" Juliet shook her head.

"I'm pretty sure he's around, but he just doesn't want to be found. He was really upset about your attack..." Gus's eyes narrowed dangerously as she spoke.

"If he was so upset, he'd come see me!" Juliet bit her lip and stayed silent as Gus gave her time to respond. When she didn't, he continued.

"I'm going to go find him. Want to help?" Juliet shook her head, desperately wishing she felt comfortable telling Gus what his mother had done to alienate Shawn.

"I can't, we're working really hard on your assault, Gus. There have been several more-" Gus ignored her, hobbling back towards the door.

"Gus! You won't find him! Even Henry can't find him!" Gus simply stormed out the precinct doors. 

With a last, sad glance, and a prayer that the duo would be able to repair their friendship eventually, Juliet turned and descended the stairs towards the interrogation cells. She had work to do.

***

"Gus!" Henry's eyes widened at the sight of his son's best friend. He knew Gus had woken up, but he certainly hadn't expected him to be up and about.

That aside, Henry also hadn't expected him to be so incredibly _pissed_.

"Hello, Mr. Spencer. I'm looking for Shawn. Have you heard from him?" Gus's tone was icy and sharp, and Henry could tell he was barely containing his rage. It would have been misdirected at Henry, and Gus knew that wouldn't help to fix anything.

"Gus, I'm sorry, but Shawn's disappeared. I've tried, and you know how he is. If he doesn't want to be found, no one is going to find him. Just wait until he comes back around. He always does." Gus bristled at Henry's unconcerned tone, his lips turning from the thin line they were in into an angry formation.

Gus had never been so outraged in his entire life. Never, in all the years he had known Shawn, had he ever, _ever_ been this mad at him. 

For all the times Shawn had ever irritated him, gotten him in trouble, been reckless, or any number of the teeth-grinding instances in which Gus had had every right to walk away from their friendship, never had Gus been this furious. He had been there when Shawn had crashed his motorcycle. He had been there when Shawn had been shot and kidnapped. 

He had been there for every damn thing his friend had ever gone through, from his parents’ messy divorce to the fit that accompanied the incredibly stupid end of _Lost_ ; and the time Gus was _attacked and comatose_ , Shawn wasn't any-fucking-where to be found.

Shaking with rage, Gus turned around and went back towards his car. It was obvious Henry wasn't going to help him find Shawn. He didn't have to say it, Gus just knew it. 

Henry had given up on his son, no matter the state of their relationship and how far it had come. Henry had accepted that Shawn was a grown man, and that he could do as he pleased.

But Gus had not accepted this, because he knew it wasn't fucking true. Shawn was _not_ a grown man, and he never would be. 

And Gus was going to chew his ass out if it was the last thing he ever did.

"Gus!" Henry called, once, but the man had already clambered back into his vehicle. Gus looked up at him through the windshield as he threw the blueberry into reverse. Henry shook his head, but Gus just stared as he peeled out of the driveway. 

Henry recognized that look. He had worn it many times over the course of Shawn's childhood.

_Disappointment._

***

"Dammit!" Gus cursed wickedly, slamming the _Psych_ office door shut. Shawn hadn't been anywhere near their office in weeks - the air was too stale, and everything was exactly as Gus had left it the night of his attack. 

"Where the hell are you?" Gus muttered, limping around the side of the building. His eyes swept the sidewalks, the storefronts, and the pier - but there was no sign of Shawn.

 _I'm never going to find him._ Gus thought, sitting down on the steps leading to the office's porch. He had been searching for hours, and Gus had to concede that it was true, no matter how much he didn't want to believe it-if Shawn didn't want to be found, no one was going to be able to find him.

Not even his best friend.

A crippling wave of sadness washed over Gus, and he sighed, closing his lids against the tears that began to pool in his eyes. For the first time, Shawn had truly let him down. 

Because Shawn Spencer may make mistakes, but he always, _always_ made it right in the end. He always had a solution, and he always came through for Gus. Maybe not for other people, but always for Gus. Gus was special to Shawn, just as Shawn was special to him.

Or, so Gus had thought. Now, he wasn't so sure.

"Burton Guster." Gus's eyes flashed open at the voice. His vision blurred before he blinked back the tears and saw three kids standing before him.

"Yes?" Gus asked, tired. He couldn't deal with this. Gus didn't think he could go through Shawn disappearing on him _again_.

"We're the Jokers." Gus tensed at the word, eyes widening as he stared at the kids. Two of them were boys, flanking a girl, and they had _pipes_.

_The figure straddled him, bringing the piping down again and again on his bald head-_

"Don't-don't-" Gus scrambled back, as fast as his injuries would allow. The girl raised her arms in a peaceful gesture.

"Chill. We're not going to hurt you. We're here to protect you." The boys weighed the piping in their hands, grinning and scanning the area around them. A few people around the area this late in the day hurried past, evidently recognizing the gang. 

"Pr-pro-protect me?" Gus was shaking, struggling to keep from screaming like a small child and begging for mercy. 

_-smashing his nose and shattering his cheekbone-_

"Yes. Your cop friends brought us in for interrogation, so we decided to dig in places the cops can't exactly search." The girl smiled grimly at him. "We've been hearing things. We think we know who attacked you...and they're going to try again. Mr. Guster, we're not about to let that happen."

"Whether you like it or not, we're protecting you." The blond boy added gruffly, and Gus attempted to control his breathing.

_-I should have worn a jacket-_

"How-how do I know it wasn't y-you...?" Gus asked softly, squeaking a bit at the end. The three teenagers exchanged looks.

"With all respect and shit, dude, if we wanted you dead, you'd be dead. And these guys that are after you, they want you dead. They're _going to kill you_." The brown-haired boy pointed out, and after a minute the girl stuck out her hand.

"I'm Esther. This is Ryan, and Oliver. We know you guys were on our case," Gus's eyes widened even further with fear as he accepted Esther's hand. "And we're really quite honored."

"We reached levels of badassery worthy of _Psych_!" Ryan said _Psych_ 's name with a certain reverence, and Gus immediately knew that the Jokers hadn't attacked him. 

"You'll be safe with us." Oliver reassured him, and the boys twirled their pipes. For some strange, inexplicable reason, Gus actually felt safe.

"Uh, um, would you like to come to dinner?" Gus asked after a moment, floundering a bit. His parents had never thought to teach him how to interact with dangerous teenage gang members that had made it their mission to protect him. 

_Wait, **seriously**?_ Gus asked himself, backtracking in his mind as Ryan and Oliver helped him up and towards his car. Was this really _happening_?

Lassiter was going to have a _fit_.

***

"So then, I whipped his ass with my fucking coke bottle! Can you believe that idiot? He seriously thought he could just-" Gus stared at his plate, entirely at a loss for what to do. Esther, Ryan, and Oliver had been vigilant, pipes hidden in their pants or jackets, always on the lookout for danger. 

But really, seventeen year old, juvenile delinquent bodyguards? When had this become acceptable in his Mental Burton Guster Natural Order?

"Gus, man, you okay?" Oliver asked, poking him in the shoulder. Esther was watching the door, eating a hamburger. Gus had taken the three to _Red Robin_ with him for dinner.

"Yes-uh..." Gus hesitated in his lie. These three had kickass bullshit detectors, and he didn't really have the energy to lie. 

"...no. Shawn's disappeared. I can't find him anywhere, but I'm pretty sure he's still in Santa Barbara." Gus sighed, dipping a fry in ketchup. The Jokers exchanged glances before Esther pulled out her cellphone and shot off a quick text.

"Dagger will find him." Gus's eyebrows rose intensely. For gang members, Esther, Ryan, and Oliver had normal names. But _Dagger_?!

"Dagger?" Gus repeated quietly. Did he really want someone named _Dagger_ to go after his Shawn?

"Yeah, he'll find him by lunch tomorrow, if he's in the city. Nobody escapes Dagger and Blade. They're one kickass team." Ryan commented, spreading relish over a hotdog. 

Still slightly uneasy, but strangely, feeling as though they might actually be able to help him, Gus didn't object and continued with his dinner.

_Things might actually be starting to look up..._

***

Shawn walked down the pitch black alley quietly, slinking like a feral cat around the corners of the crumbling, brick buildings. The red of the brick was faded, and most of it was obscured by graffiti. The air smelled positively foul, but that didn't deter Shawn.

He was going to find the bastards who had hurt Gus no matter where the hell it took him. 

Rounding the corner, Shawn saw a flash of something in the dim, murky-yellow light filtering out of a curtain a few floors above him. He swept the area with his eyes a few times before hurrying towards the dumpster. 

It was just a discarded knife. Shawn peered at it for a moment before letting it roll from his fingertips. He thought about keeping it - at least until he got out of this part of the city - but the tip was bent in such a way that it would have been utterly useless to him.

Suddenly, Shawn was yanked into the shadows of the fire escape by strong, wide hands. Someone's foot pressed him to the ground before he could cry out, knocking the air out of his lungs. 

Shawn felt duct tape wrap around his hands quickly, binding them tightly together. More of it went around his ankles, and in about twenty seconds, Shawn was completely immobilized.

"He-" Someone slapped duct tape over his lips as Shawn finally managed to draw the breath he needed to call for help. 

Four orbs - two blue, two green - fell into his vision. He couldn't make out anything past the eyes and outlines of his attackers.

"Someone's looking for you, buddy." A deep, rumbling voice informed him. A blindfold slipped over his eyes, and Shawn was completely helpless.

***

"We've got to get those damn kids on _something_." Lassiter growled, swallowing two mouthfuls of coffee in one gulp. Juliet shook her head, a few strands of hair falling out of her lopsided bun as she pored over the papers of information Buzz had gathered.

"Dammit! We have a _shitload_ of witness statements!" Lassiter ground his teeth together, the wheels in his head turning. The SBPD had decided to finally go after the Jokers after several more attacks around the city, and the fact that Lassiter was 100% convinced they were behind Gus's attack only cemented his determination to put the kids behind bars. 

"Witness statements from other delinquents regarding other cases are nothing without physical evidence. And we have _no evidence_." Juliet reminded her partner, equally frustrated. They _needed_ Shawn, and they both knew it. 

"Juliet. Lassiter." Both detectives' heads turned at the sound of Gus's voice. 

And both detectives' mouths dropped open at the _sight_ of Gus.

"What the hell!" Lassiter shouted, and several other officers’ heads turned. The kids he was so desperately trying to catch were _flanking Gus_.

"I believe you need my statement?" Gus said, choosing to ignore the fact that his _attempted murders_ were following him in a fucking wolf pack. 

"Uh, um, yes-Gus," Juliet coughed and recovered, retrieving statement paperwork from a drawer in her desk. She gestured towards the interrogation rooms, and the five made their way down the stairs.

As the three, apparent-bodyguards followed Gus, the one Lassiter remembered as Ryan turned around and _winked at him_.

"Son of a _BITCH_ -"

***

"Who are you?" Shawn demanded, masking the fear in his voice with a harsh edge. His kidnappers hadn't removed the blindfold, but after he began struggling to breath they had taken the duct tape off his mouth. 

"Do you ever shut up?" The second voice complained. There were two voices-a deep voice, and a slightly accented one. Neither of the voices had sounded particularly vicious, or even that dangerous.

"Seriously dude, just chill out." The accented voice complained, and Shawn heard a chair scrape across the floor as someone sat down.

"Where are they? I haven't got all fuckin' day." The gruff voice asked. 

"We owe them the favor. You want them up your ass for something else? Be glad it wasn't that fuckin' big of a job." Shawn twisted his arms carefully, attempting to covertly loosen the duct tape. 

"Dude! Would you just sit still! Jesus!" The accented voice cussed and smacked his hands. Shawn scowled, boiling in the silence. Normally, he would have been mouthing off and making things difficult, but he didn't have any patience left, not even for his own antics.

"Ah, about fuckin' time!" The accented voice continued, and Shawn heard a door slide open. He paused. 

That door sounded just like...

The blindfold slipped off his head, and Shawn blinked rapidly at the sudden burst of light. When the world returned to focus, he gaped.

The two kidnappers were teenagers, they were in the _Psych_ office, and Gus was standing in the doorway.

"Dude! What the hell! You went and hired _kidnappers_?!" Shawn felt a rock of guilt burrow in his stomach at the sight of his friend, but even through his crushing shame, he was surprised. 

"No! I-Esther-Where the hell have you been?" Gus eventually settled on demanding answers from him instead of providing them. 

"Around." Shawn broke the eye contact. He just couldn't look into his friend's eyes as an equal anymore.

Not when it was his fault. All his fault...

"The hell you have! I woke up from a damn coma, and you weren't there!" Gus was angry, but Shawn could also hear the sadness in his voice. Gus wasn't just royally pissed - he was sincerely hurt.

"Why'd you have them kidnap me?" Shawn asked, avoiding the subject. He could feel Gus's intent gaze burning into him, but refused to meet his eyes.

"I couldn't find you. The Jokers are protecting me now - they think my attackers are going to try again - and they said they’d find you. I didn't know..." Gus's eyes flickered hesitantly to the kidnappers. Esther, Ryan, and Oliver casually entered the office, chattering about something or other.

"Esther!" Esther looked up, smiling when she spotted Shawn. She crossed over to Gus, and gestured proudly at Shawn.

"Told ya' I'd get him. Thanks Blade, Dagger." Esther nodded coolly to the two teenage hoodlums, who grumbled a few choice words and quickly left the office. Ryan dropped himself into a chair and looked out the _Psych_ window, and Oliver examined a few photos on their wall.

"I didn't want you to _kidnap_ him!" Gus sputtered, clumsily hobbling to his friend. Esther sighed, rolled her eyes, and pulled out a pocket knife. Gus hopped back in surprise, but Esther simply sliced through Shawn's bindings.

Once he was free, Shawn jumped up, fully prepared to bolt from the room. Esther brandished the pocket knife at him.

"Oi, sit. You're not leaving until Gus finishes whatever the hell he has to say." Shawn stared at her for a moment, until Esther moved forward with the knife. He collapsed into the chair, obviously frightened by the small seventeen-year-old. 

"Boys," Esther nodded towards the doors, and Ryan and Oliver silently followed the command, heading out the front door. Esther went out the back, and suddenly, all of the exits were covered and Shawn and Gus were alone.

Gus shuffled over to the chair Ryan had just vacated and sat down, eyeing Shawn. Shawn began fidgeting restlessly, looking anywhere but Gus.

“Why?” Gus asked simply, devoid of inflection. Shawn clasped his hands together, something Gus recognized as an expression of guilt.

“’Why’ what?” Gus’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Look Shawn, I’m your best friend, and you should know by now that I’m not buying what you’re selling, so cut the crap and just _tell me_ what the hell is wrong with you!” Shawn’s eyes were starting to water, Gus could see, and _damn it all_ he was so tired and so hurt and _what the hell is going on_?

“I’m sorry,” Shawn bit his lip, obviously willing the tears away, but his voice was thick and his guilt was clear. “I’m sorry Gus, it’s my fault you were-“

“Are you _kidding me_?” Gus practically yelled, eyes wide with disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking, because then I can smack you and tell you it’s not funny.” 

“I...” Shawn couldn’t continue, choking on his words and closing his eyes against the tears. He just couldn’t look at Gus when he knew, however irrational Mrs. Guster may have been when she lashed out at him, that she was right. Gus should have had a house, a wife, maybe a couple of kids if his pharmaceutical’s salary would allow it. Shawn was only holding his friend back, and he risked Gus’s life on a daily basis. It wasn’t fair to him, and it shouldn’t have taken Gus’s _hospitalization_ for Shawn to realize this. 

“Shawn,” Gus shook his head in disgust. “There is no way in hell any of this is your fault. But you know what is? Not being there when I woke up!”

 _That wasn’t exactly my fault either,_ Shawn thought miserably. Gus’s eyes narrowed when he didn’t respond.

“What? What is it?” Shawn shook his head, looking out the window.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, man.” Gus crossed his arms, suspicion brewing steadily. 

“See, now that I think about it,” Gus began, cocking his head to the side. “You would never let some dumbass guilt trip keep you away from my deathbed. There’s something else. Dammit, Shawn!”

“I’m sorry!” Shawn yelled back, finally allowing the tears to fall. “I’m sorry for everything. I’m not good for you.”

“What?” 

“You shouldn’t be running around with me doing this psychic detective shtick. You should have a wife, a dog, and a yard. I’m not good for you.” Shawn repeated sadly.

“First of all,” Gus began, after a long moment, a hint of violent emotion beginning to color his tone. “I’m not picking up after a dog. I don’t want that hair ingrained into my carpet. Secondly, I’m not mowing any lawn, or raking any fricken’ leaves. And thirdly, if it’s a wife or my best friend, which one do you think I want more?”

Shawn stared at Gus silently, tears sliding indiscreetly down his cheeks. Gus stood up slowly, taking a couple of steps towards the pseudo psychic. 

“You think jerk chicken is good for me? Believe me, that’ll kill me faster than the criminals we chase after.” Gus reached out, catching Shawn’s shoulder. “I’m a grown-ass man, Shawn. I can decide what I eat - and who I want to eat it with - by myself.”

“...Jerk chicken?” Shawn asked tentatively, wiping at the tears lingering on his cheeks. Gus smiled victoriously.

“You know that’s right.”

***

“Four more attacks of the same variety.” Juliet slapped a couple of files onto Lassiter’s desk. “That brings the count up to nine, including Gus. This is getting bigger than we thought.”

“Are there any connections between the vics?” Lassiter asked, gulping down the sludge of a coffee Evans had brought him. Damn it, why did McNabb have to be the grunt he _trusted_? He always made the best coffee, and he couldn’t do that if he was out catching criminals.

“Not anything I can see. Four were female, five were male. Three African-Americans, one Puerto Rican, two Irishmen, one Australian tourist, and two Japanese businessmen. Two gay men and one lesbian, all of the vics in various states of relationships.” Juliet collapsed wearily into a chair next to her partner. “If this was a hate crime, it’s not making a lick of sense.”

“Maybe it’s not a serial killer. Maybe it’s completely random selection.” Lassiter flipped open one of the files, examining a hospital report. Metal pipes could do a lot of damage. “Murder for the sake of murder.”

“How do we catch them?” Juliet asked. Lassiter shut the report, closing his eyes.

“We put out as many street patrols as we can spare and hope.” Lassiter opened his eyes, bracing himself for the look he knew Juliet was going to give him. “There’s nothing else we can do, O’Hara.”

“We can keep looking for a pattern!” Juliet replied stubbornly, snatching the folders away from him and angrily clacking off towards the lower level of the station.

Lassiter let a breath out from between his teeth, running a hand through his cropped hair. He knew Juliet was pissed at his lack of initiative, but to be perfectly honest, he couldn’t bring himself to muster up any. He was too tired. 

Lassiter prided himself on never allowing anything to beat him – be it a case or his ex-wife – but this case had well and truly trampled him.

“Hey Lassiter,” Gus appeared in front of his desk, and Lassiter raised his head slowly. He didn’t know if he could deal with those smart-ass kids again.

But they weren’t there. Gus saw the question in his eyes and sighed, his left hand fidgeting.

“They’re in the car. Look, I know you don’t like it but I-” Lassiter drained the last of his coffee and tossed it in the trash can next to his desk, cutting the assistant detective off.

“I’m not going to argue with you about it. We could assign you a police detail if you want, though.” Gus opened his mouth, but Lassiter cut him off again, anticipating the protest. “They’re trained professionals, Guster. It is a reasonable conclusion to draw that they would be more effective than three kids armed with less than a foot of metal.”

“Right.” Gus swallowed his words, nodding respectfully. “Thank you for the offer. But I-”

“Just take it into consideration?” Lassiter cut in again, feeling the beginnings of a headache stirring in his temples. Great.

“Sure.” Gus answered quietly, taking the seat next to his desk. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, something that didn’t happen often when Shawn was around.

Which he _wasn’t_. Lassiter was filled with rage for a minute. For all of the psychic’s stupidity, blaming him the way Mrs. Guster had was entirely uncalled for.

And while Juliet may have had the decorum to not mention it to Gus, Lassiter had never been very well versed in social etiquette.

“Look, Guster,” Lassiter turned fully towards him, sucking in a lungful of air. “I know you’re probably pissed as ever loving Mary at Spencer, but there’s something you should know.”

“I’m not going to sugar coat it, because I don’t bullshit people. And I know it’s not my place to say anything, but I’m going to anyway, because who’s going to tell you if I don’t?” Gus was frowning at him now, confused.

“What?” Lassiter made eye contact with Gus.

“Guster, when you were first brought into the hospital, your mother was the one who blamed Shawn for the attack.” 

Gus gaped at the Head Detective, a downpour of explicit, murderous thoughts towards his mother crossing his mind. Oh. Hell. No.

“So you’re saying,” Gus said slowly, his voice clipped and miraculously calm. “That my mother. Blamed Shawn.”

“Yes. And that’s not all.” Lassiter turned his chair back towards his computer, swiftly typing in his password. He pulled up a database, entering in a search for Gus’s name.

“She filed a restraining order against Spencer that was thankfully denied due to lack of evidence, though she did manage to have Spencer, O’Hara, and I banned from the hospital room.” Lassiter leaned back, allowing Gus to scan over the documents on the computer.

“Oh my God.” Gus was going to have to kill someone. He wondered if he could convince Lassiter to get it wiped from his record if he blamed it on the painkillers. “That _bitch_!” 

“That’s your mother, Guster.” Gus raised his eyebrows, his voice going high.

“I know!” Lassiter shrugged, closing the document window. 

“Well, it is my personal opinion that you should absolve Spencer of his sins. He’s already feeling shitty enough as it is with all of the guilt piled on his shoulders.” Gus stood up, fists clenching and unclenching.

“We already made up. But he certainly didn’t tell me _that_.” Lassiter shrugged again, crossing his legs.

“Like I said, not really my place to say anything. Probably doesn’t feel like it’s his either.” Gus nodded, shooting Lassiter a hard look.

“Thank you, Detective.” Lassiter nodded, acknowledging the mutual understanding. Yes, he was way out of line. But Gus didn’t really mind.

Lassiter watched Gus limp away, out towards his car, before standing up and taking off after Juliet. Perhaps with a little more investigating they could crack it. As they say, a police officer’s job was never done. 

Well, at least _his_ job was never done.

***

“Shawn, where are you?” Gus was hobbling quickly towards his blueberry, which was shaking with the bass of a radio station Gus would never have programmed into his console in a million years.

“ _I’m down by the docks, I think I have a lead. Want to meet me here?_ ” Gus sighed.

“Yes, I’ll be right over.” Gus’s eyes narrowed as he got into the driver’s seat. “I just have to make a quick pit stop.”

“ _Okay. If you’re getting food, bring me something. If you’re not getting food, bring me something anyway._ ” Gus rolled his eyes, and, despite himself, managed a half-smile.

“Bye Shawn.” Gus terminated the call, wrenching the car into drive. Esther shot him a curious look from over her sunglasses as she stayed in her reclined position, ignoring her seatbelt. 

“What’s up, Papa G?” Gus quickly pulled out from the police station and into oncoming traffic, deftly maneuvering the Blueberry towards the western end of town. Ryan and Oliver exchanged looks in the backseat, but Gus ignored them, weaving in and out of traffic.

“There’s someone I need to talk to.” Esther watched him for a moment.

“Do you want me to call Blade again?” Gus snorted, a vicious smile sliding onto his face for a moment.

“No. But oh, I _wish_.”

***

“Burton,” Mrs. Guster smiled as her son entered the kitchen. She continued chopping a carrot, making it to the end of the vegetable before turning to face him. “I wasn’t expecting you for dinner; I’ll set another plate.”

“Mom,” Gus said quietly as she bustled around, pulling out an extra plate and silverware. “ _Mom_.” 

“Yes?” Mrs. Guster smiled, arranging the napkin carefully before hurrying back to the stove to check on her stew and add the carrots.

“You banned Shawn from my hospital room.” Gus stated calmly. Mrs. Guster froze, the last carrot dropping into the pot with a muted plop.

“It was for your own good.” She asserted carefully after a moment, taking a step towards the pharmaceutical salesman. Gus held out a hand, stopping her advance. 

“I’m an adult now,” Gus stared at her, expressionless. “I don’t need you to make decisions for me anymore.”

“I’m your mother!” Mrs. Guster shot back angrily. “I’m on your emergency contact list!” 

“Not anymore,” Gus crossed his arms carefully, leaning against the kitchen wall. “I took you off of it half an hour ago.”

Mrs. Guster gaped at her son, expression quickly morphing from anger to shock and back to anger. “That selfish little – he told you, didn’t he; he told you lies about me so he could-”

“Shawn didn’t tell me a damn thing!” Gus exploded, one fist punching the wall. Mrs. Guster jumped, nearly knocking the stew over. “He’s my best friend, how could you do something like this?” 

“He’s the reason you were in a coma!” Mrs. Guster appealed desperately, lurching forward. Gus held out his hand again, tense lines appearing in his forehead. “He almost took you away from me.”

“How could you take _him_ away from _me_?” Gus countered. He took the final step forwards, closing the distance between them. Gus was right in his own mother’s face, absolutely refusing to back down. “We’ve been friends since we’ve been in diapers. Do you know how much he means to me? Do you? Do you really think you know what’s best for me if you think _Shawn_ isn’t good for me? He’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“Burton, he’s-” Mrs. Guster started, but Gus wasn’t about to let her finish. He had no interest in what she had to say – he knew his mother; he had heard enough.  
“He’s my best friend. Even if it was his fault – which it is _not_ \- it wouldn’t change that. _Nothing_ will ever change that.” Gus stumbled back, suddenly disgusted. “It’s revolting that you’d even _try_. My own mother.”

“Burton-”

Gus turned away from her, barely limping as he walked out of the back door with a bang. Mrs. Guster stared after him for a long moment, forgetting about the stew altogether.

***

“Did you bring me any food?” Shawn asked Gus immediately. Gus rolled his eyes, but tossed Shawn a Fruit-By-The-Foot that he tore into gleefully.

“What’s this lead?” Gus brought the reason for them being at the docks at dusk to the center of attention, a subject Shawn appeared to have abandoned entirely. “Shawn? Shawn!”

“What? Oh, yeah.” Shawn stuffed the end of the Fruit-By-The-Foot into his mouth with gusto and began chewing on it methodically. “I thought I had a lead. Turned out to be a dud.”

“Then why are we here?” Gus asked, exasperated.

“I needed a ride home.” Shawn shrugged, pulling the Fruit-By-The-Foot farther into his mouth with his tongue. 

“Shawn!” Gus closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was typical Shawn, and really, Gus was glad he had seemingly given up the guilt-shtick, but he was fairly drained from the confrontation with his mother and didn’t feel like dealing with it.

“I’ll make it up to you. Bacon flavored ice cream.” Shawn asked, starting to head back up towards the parking lot. “Where’s your gang?”

“ _Bacon?_ ” Gus repeated incredulously. It sounded disgusting and delicious at the same time. “They’re not _my_ gang Shawn.”

“Yes, _bacon_.” Shawn grinned, positively ecstatic. “Sure they are. You’re practically a Mafioso now. Badass Burton?”

“I am not a _Mafioso_ , Shawn.” Gus laughed, limping ahead of the private eye. “I sell pharmaceuticals. I’m about as far from a Mafioso as you can get.”

Gus continued walking for a moment, waiting for Shawn’s response, but it never came. Instead, the cold muzzle of a gun pressed into the back of his head.

“Fucking nigger.” Gus gasped as he recognized the voice.

The gun fired.  
***

“Get anything off that print?” Juliet asked tiredly, dropping a thick file onto Lassiter’s desk. He shook his head no, polishing off the last of his coffee.

“Not even a partial...any luck with Guster’s case?” Juliet stared at Lassiter for a moment, reminding him that she was mad at him, before carefully answering.

“Nothing.” She sighed, brushing a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Just a bunch of dead ends.”

“Something will crop up.” Lassiter halfheartedly reassured his partner. “We’ll catch the bastard.”

“These patterns...they just don’t make sense!” Juliet huffed in frustration, dropping a hard fist on top of a stack of paperwork. 

Lassiter reached out hesitantly, resting a hand on Juliet’s forearm. She looked up, blinking at him. 

“We’ll catch the bastard.” He repeated. After a long moment, Juliet slowly nodded.

A shout startled the two detectives and they jumped apart, looking towards the source of the disturbance. The Jokers had burst into the police station, knocking over an officer carrying a large pile of paperwork and sending files everywhere.

“Watch it!” The officer yelled sharply as the kids sprinted to Lassiter and Juliet.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Lassiter demanded. All three kids were sucking in air as if it would disappear.

“Shawn...and Gus...” Oliver started as Ryan shook his head, tossing sweat everywhere. Juliet made a face, frowning at them.

“What about them?” Lassiter questioned, annoyed.

“They’ve been fucking kidnapped!” Esther raged, violently sweeping the stack of paperwork Juliet had punched onto the floor. “Right under our noses!”

“What?!” Lassiter demanded, startled by the outburst. 

“Gus went to pick up Shawn down by the docks. Papa G said it was only going to take a minute, so we were waiting in the car,” Ryan began.

“He’d only been gone for ten Goddamn seconds when a monster fucking SUV peeled out of the warehouse. They were hogtied in the back!” Oliver finished, eyes blazing. Juliet raised her hands calmly, assessing the situation. The kids were steaming, and looking more like hoodlums than they ever had.

“Okay, just, calm down. Do you have any idea who took them?” Esther, Ryan, and Oliver exchanged a communicative glance before Ryan nodded.

“We have an idea.” Esther stared at Lassiter, eyes narrowing.

“We’re coming with you, you know that, right?” The tone of her voice suggested that the question was more of a statement. Lassiter held the eye contact for a long moment, a stare-down, and surprisingly, the detective gave in first.

“Fine.” Juliet blinked in surprise. Lassiter jabbed a finger at Esther authoritatively. “You’d better be right about this.”

Esther’s lips pressed into a thin line. She nodded, mutual respect passing between the detective and the gang leader. “Let’s move, dammit!”

The three kids bolted out of the station, sending Lassiter and Juliet into a dash to grab their weapons and car keys. 

“You trust these kids?” Juliet asked gravely as they whirled out of the station, dragging McNabb and a couple more uniforms with them. 

Lassiter slipped on his sunglasses, jaw clenching. “I don’t have much of a choice.”

***

When Gus came to, he was tied to a chair. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and it wouldn’t be the last, but Gus still flipped out.

“Shawn! Shawn!” Gus hissed furtively, struggling against his bonds. He looked around for said psychic, and it took him a moment to realize that his chair was tied to another one around the back. “Shawn, wake up!” 

“...give me the munchkin and no one gets hurt...” Shawn mumbled, a half-snort cutting off the end of the sentence. Gus jerked back, jostling Shawn in an attempt to wake him up.

“Shawn!”

“...What? Huh?” Shawn bounced back into consciousness with a jolt, eyes wide in a way that would have been comical, except for their current situation. “Gus?”

“Who else?” Gus asked tersely, letting out an irritated huff as he stopped struggling against the rope. “What the hell happened?”

“I dunno.” Shawn mumbled, eyes screwed shut in pain. “...Uh, Gus?”

“What?” Gus asked, turning his head as far as he could. The tone of Shawn’s voice was making him very uneasy.  
“...I think I’ve been shot. _Again_.” Shawn groaned, slumping forward a little. Gus managed to twist his body beneath the rope and look over Shawn’s shoulder – a congealing bullet wound was visible in Shawn’s left thigh, the jeans around it torn and crusted with blood. 

“What the...” Gus gaped, and the memories flooded back to him.

_The figure straddled him, bringing the piping down again and again on his bald head-_

“Shawn,” Gus gasped.

 _-smashing his nose and shattering his cheekbone-_

“What?” Shawn moaned quietly.

 _"That's what you get. Fucking_ nigger _.”_

_A gun fired._

“Gus?” Shawn asked, concerned when he didn’t receive a response. Gus was breathing heavily now, on the edge of a panic attack. “Gus! C’mon buddy, talk to me here.”

“It’s them.” Gus choked out, eyes wide with terror. “They took us.”

“Who?” Shawn asked, hissing inaudibly as a burning pain shot up his leg, originating around the bullet wound.

“Us.” Both Shawn and Gus looked to the voice immediately. A woman stood in the doorway of their plain holding room, which now that Shawn had bothered to look, seemed to be a basement of some kind.

The woman smiled wryly, stepping forward. Gus flinched violently at her approach, still reliving memories of his attack.

“That’s an inaccurate statement,” Shawn started, intending to ramble. “I only see one of you, and unless you’ve got a hot twin sister I think my friend and I are going to have to pass on that threesome.”

The woman smacked him across the face, eyes shining with irritation. Shawn blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the stars that flooded his vision.

“She doesn’t have a twin sister,” A deeper voice echoed from the doorway. A dark-haired, handsome man leaned against the doorframe, appearing completely casual. “Just an older brother.”

“Sorry,” Shawn panted. “I’m not into that.”

The woman moved back, joining her brother. He smiled at her tightly before cocking his head curiously at the detective duo. “What is he doing here? He’s not our normal.”

The sister shrugged, shooting Shawn a venomous glare. “He was with the nigger.”

“I see.” The brother’s curious smirk downturned into a disapproving frown. Shawn’s brow furrowed, for once, hopelessly confused.

“ _What_ did you just call him?” Shawn demanded, albeit with more confusion than anger. But he couldn’t simply let the derogatory term slide by, especially with Gus effectively catatonic.

“Nigger. It’s what he is. Filthy scum.” The brother sneered, and Shawn gaped at him.

“What the hell – what’s going on?” Shawn asked, unable to stop the hiss of agony that followed his sentence.

“What’s your name?” The brother ignored his question, stepping forward and bending down to talk face-to-face with Shawn. The detective leaned back, uncomfortable with the invasion into personal space – it wasn’t a hostile move, despite the hostility of the entire situation.

“Shawn.” Shawn answered shortly. 

“Well, Shawn,” The brother smiled, as if relishing his name. “Welcome to the AAA.”

“A car service kidnapped us? Gus, you seriously need to change providers.” Shawn raised a challenging eyebrow. The brother’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally. 

“No, not the car service. We-” Shawn cut in before the man could finish the rest of his sentence.

“The American Anthropological Association? You know, if you wanted to study my fine physique, all you had to do was ask.” Shawn grinned cheekily, as if waiting for something, then rolled his eyes.

“Gus, this is the part where you correct me and tell me it’s Anatomy, not Anthropology.” Gus didn’t respond, and Shawn let out a silent sigh, trying to keep up the one-sided bravado routine.

“No.” The brother said shortly, looking vaguely annoyed. “We are the Anonymous Abhorrence of All impure colors.”

Shawn’s eyebrows flew into his hair as he struggled not to burst out laughing. He quickly wrestled himself back into control as he noticed the dark expression crossing the man’s face.

“So, uh, what,” Shawn coughed, sliding an amused smirk into place. “You’re like, the KKK?”

“They’ve gone soft.” The sister piped up, grinning like a shark. “They’ve forgotten the old ways, the pure ways.”

“...So you’re like the KKK?” Shawn leveled them with a morbidly amused look.

“No.” The brother spat, standing up and stalking back around Shawn and Gus, towards his sister. 

"You should call yourselves Arrogant Assholes Amalgamated!” Shawn continued, craning his neck to keep the man in view.

The man barely spared Shawn a look, whispering something to his sister. Shawn turned, nudging Gus with his shoulder weakly, face crumpling when the movement sent another flash of pain up his leg.

“Gus, Gus! Dude, don’t check out on me now! Gus!” Shawn hissed as quietly and violently as he could. The pharmaceutical salesman didn’t seem to hear him, lost in his own head.

“Shit.” Shawn muttered to himself, eyes squeezing shut as he fought against crying out at the next flare of pain. 

“So you hate black people,” Shawn continued loudly, after a moment. “Doesn’t mean you can go around beating the hell out of them with pipes!”

“Not just niggers,” The sister engaged, appearing to have come to a decision with her brother. He disappeared from the room, back out into the hallway. “All impure colors.”

“... _What?_ ” Shawn asked, his voice an angry laugh. These people were absolutely insane.

“He’s not the only one we’ve attacked,” She sneered, circling the two like a vulture. “He’s just the only one who _survived_.”

At the mention of survival, the sister’s expression darkened violently, and Shawn flared up protectively. He wasn’t about to let this – pardon his French – crazy bitch try to kill Gus _again_.

“We’ve already nailed two more niggers, a spick and a skip, a couple of micks, and two japs.” The woman bragged, but Shawn just gaped at her.

“...I have no idea what you’re saying.” Shawn confessed slowly, too lost to actually take offense. The woman stared at him for a moment in disbelief before rolling her eyes and stepping back towards the door.

“White is the only pure color.” She answered concisely, looking out the door and down the hallway for something, presumably her brother.

“Well, I wouldn’t say _that_ ,” Shawn paused, nudging Gus with his shoulder again. He had to break him out of this, and fast. “How about black? Black is just black, you know? Black has always got your back! It’s a solid color.”

“Black is a shade, Shawn.” Gus managed, half-faking his normal bantering tone of annoyance. Shawn tried to hide his grin of relief at eliciting a response from his best friend behind his usual arguing frown.

“What are you talking about, ‘shade’? Shades go on lamps.” Gus leaned back a little, pressing the back of his head to Shawn’s. 

“Red, yellow, and blue are the primary colors; you mix them together to get all the other colors on the wheel. Those are hues.” Gus’s voice grew stronger with each word. “Add white to any color and you get a tint. Add black, you get a shade. Black is a shade.”

“Man, what the hell are you talking about? Since when does the _Wheel of Fortune_ have anything to do with this? And I only know one Hugh. Hugh Jackman,” Shawn paused, raising his eyebrows like he usually did with their familiar chatter. “The man’s hair is almost as gloriously handsome as mine.”

“Now you’re just making stuff up.” Shawn admonished. Gus rolled his eyes in mock-irritation. The woman just looked on, a blankly confused expression etched onto her face. “Shades and tones my ass.”

“It’s called a tint; tones are totally different.” Shawn smirked slowly at the words.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. It’s a what?”

“Tint.”

“Huh?”

“Tint!”

“One more time?”

“A _tin_ \- Shawn!”

“Enough!” The woman burst out, looking between the two incredulously. “You two are insufferable!” 

_Mission accomplished,_ Shawn thought. Had they not been tied together, this success might have even rated a fist bump.

“Can we get rid of them yet?” The woman asked her brother as he re-entered the room. 

“Yes. Everything is in place.” Two black-cloaked figures entered the room, each carrying a large slab of wood. Shawn craned his neck to see what was happening, trying to ignore the pain in his leg.

“I thought white was the only pure color?”

“Shade, Shawn.” 

The AAA ignored them, a third cloaked figure bringing a toolbox into the room. Shawn’s stomach dropped, unsure of what they were going to do – all he knew was, it couldn’t be good.

“We must make an example of them.” The brother commanded quietly to the cloaked followers, who nodded once in understanding. 

“Hey, hey...what are you doing there?” Shawn laughed nervously. Gus was rigid against the chair, and Shawn nudged him again in silent comfort. 

“The work of the Lord.” The sister replied in a monotone.

_”There’s nothing more dangerous than a nut who believes they’re doing something in God’s name.”_

_Well,_ Shawn responded to his father’s voice in his head, watching with growing unease as the AAA assembled what was starting to look like a full-size crucifix before his very eyes.

_Shit._

***

“Something’s definitely going on.” Juliet declared, pushing her sunglasses onto the crown of her head. Lassiter looked out of his windshield, surveying the area carefully. The Jokers had led them to an abandoned factory in the middle of nowhere, on a hunch that seemed to be cashing out.

“What makes you say that?” Lassiter asked. They had parked at the top of a crag, looking down over the few miles of forest and fielded-factory.

“Well, maybe it was the two pristine, white SUV’s parked outside.” Juliet pointed out. “Or the fact that a couple of cloaked figures just carried two huge pieces of wood and a toolbox into the restricted, government property warehouse.”

“I say we make the call.” Lassiter commented decisively after a moment. “Better safe than sorry.” 

“You’re not going to get anywhere with cops swarming the place.” Lassiter jumped as Esther spoke up behind them.

“How the hell did you...never mind.” Lassiter grumbled. “What do mean by that?”

“They’ve got the place locked down like Fort-fucking-Knox. Ryan and Oliver went ahead and cased the joint.” Lassiter couldn’t decide which part of Esther’s sentence he should be getting upset over – the fact that three teenagers had taken potentially dangerous action without informing them or that said teenagers’ specialized; possibly-illegal skillset was turning out to be helpful. “There’s only one way in.”

“And what’s that?” Juliet asked. Esther leveled her with a serious look.

“The bike trail.”

Lassiter raised a questioning eyebrow. “Bike trail? You-”  
A knock on his window interrupted the head detective, and he turned, only to find Ryan and Oliver smiling back at him, seated on two beat-up looking bicycles. 

“How did you get bik-” Lassiter cut off the last few words of his question, jaw clenching. Juliet almost looked amused, but she hid it well.

“So, a bike trail?” Esther nodded as Ryan and Oliver got into the backseat.

“Down the side of the cliff. Only way in – the rest of the woods are too thick.” Ryan confirmed the statement with a dry ‘yep’.

“Let’s call some units down and go in on foot.” Juliet suggested, looking to her partner.

“Can’t.” Oliver cut in quickly, a small smile aimed in Juliet’s direction. “It’d take too long. We’re running out of time.”

“Out of time?” Lassiter growled. He was getting sick of constantly being one step behind three seventeen year old hoodlums. 

“Those are some sick fucks down there,” Ryan jabbed a finger towards the factory. “It’s the fucking AAA man.”

“The what?” Lassiter inquired exasperatedly.

“We knew the minute we saw the damn wood,” Ryan continued, hair bouncing agitatedly. “The AAA. Racist shitheads who think they can bring back the KKK glory days.”

“They’re pretty new,” Esther commented distantly. “Why didn’t we think of them before? Shit.”

“Racism!” Juliet burst out, clues slotting into place. “None of the vics were white! That’s the pattern!”

Lassiter stared at his partner for a second, sharing the moment of discovery, before grudgingly turning back to the kids.

“What’s our play, then? If we can’t go down on foot, or by car?” Esther, Ryan, and Oliver exchanged another deeply communicative glance. Seemingly coming to a decision, Esther looked to the detectives.

“We’ve got three bikes. We can take three cops down there with us.” Lassiter’s eyebrows flew up into his hairline at the suggestion.

“You’re not coming with us,” Lassiter began, but Juliet cut him off.

“McNabb. He’ll be our third.” Lassiter gaped at the junior detective in shock.

“We can’t take them with us, O’Hara; they’re kids!” The Jokers smirked in amusement as Juliet quietly countered his argument.

“We don’t have much of a choice, Carlton.” Oliver opened the door, climbing out with Ryan.

“She’s right, you know. We’re the ones with the bikes-”

“And I can requisition the bikes if I need to-”

“-and we’re the ones who know where the trail is.” Esther finished smugly. Her smile faded, replaced by a grave expression. “We can take care of ourselves, detective.”

“That’s not the proble-” Lassiter started, but Juliet had already gotten out of the car, and he decided that this was one battle he had no chance in Hell of winning.

“Buzz, we need you down here.” Juliet slipped her sunglasses back on, holding a cell phone up to her ear. “No, just you. I need everybody else to organize back-up...yes, I know it’s already organized but it needs to be organized again. This time with bikes.”

Buzz accepted the order gracefully, Lassiter conceded when the huge officer appeared minutes later. If Buzz had questions, he didn’t voice them, or show any outward indication of doubt in the detectives’ plan.

“Alright, hop on.” Esther instructed in a bored drawl. Lassiter stared at her blankly while Buzz looked to the detectives for confirmation or denial of the order.

“You can’t be serious.” Esther raised an elfish eyebrow, leaning casually against her handlebars.

“Deadly.”

Buzz exchanged a look with Juliet, and when she moved towards Oliver, Buzz followed her lead, climbing awkwardly onto Esther’s rear axles.

“Um,” Buzz began cautiously. “Don’t you think it’d be easier if I pedaled?”

“I’ve got it, sasquatch.” Esther informed Buzz calmly. “I’ve carried heavier than you bucko.”

“What’s the problem?” Esther asked Lassiter, bracing her feet against the brakes now that Buzz was balanced on the tail end of her bike.

“I don’t think I can do that.” Lassiter gestured towards Juliet, who was holding onto Oliver’s back firmly and had her sensible heels curved around the rear axles. How she had managed to balance on the bike in those things was a mystery Carlton would never solve.

“Handlebars.” Ryan suggested jadedly. Lassiter hesitated for a moment, before carefully climbing onto the bike. 

“Hold on here.” Ryan instructed, placing Lassiter’s hands in the correct position on the bottom of the handlebars. “Once we get going you’ll need to hold your legs off the bike, but not too far out or you’ll throw off my balance.”

Lassiter nodded once, focusing on getting his hands into position. To say he was nervous would have been an understatement, but naturally, Lassiter wasn’t about to voice this fact to the group.

“Let’s move.” Esther ordered calmly, taking the lead with a forceful kickoff. Oliver and Juliet followed her, then finally, Ryan and Lassiter.

 _This isn’t so bad,_ Lassiter thought after a tense minute or two – the path the Jokers were taking was relatively smooth, for a forest, and he really didn’t see why they couldn’t take it on foot.

Unsurprisingly, Lassiter had spoken too soon.

“We’re about to hit the trail!” Esther called back, with an unexpected, marginal lead on the pack, even carrying Buzz. Lassiter barely had two seconds to be confused, under the impression that they had already been traveling along the trail, before the group practically careened off into the woods.

“Shit!” Lassiter cursed, his knuckles white as he balanced himself on the handlebars, struggling to keep his long legs tightly reined in. He didn’t know how Ryan was able to see around him, but Lassiter squeezed his eyes shut, unable to force himself to watch.

The group made several turns, winding their way through the forest as quickly as possible. The Jokers were experts on the bikes, maneuvering them as though they were an additional limb.

 _I’m going to die,_ Lassiter thought, clenching his teeth together to avoid shrieking in terror. _I’m going to die on a delinquent’s bicycle in the middle of the woods._

_Dammit, Spencer!_

***

As it turned out, it _was_ a crucifix.

Somehow, that didn’t make either of the _Psych_ pair feel any better about the situation.

Funnily enough, neither did the five crazy people chanting in Swedish. 

“Swedish? _Really?_ ” Shawn demanded while Gus started to seriously panic. The chanting didn’t falter, and the two struggled against the rope frantically.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Gus repeated, horrified. “We’re going to die. Shawn, insane racists are going to kill us!”

“ _Swedish?_ ” Shawn repeated, because it was the only thing he could think to say. “I thought they were neutral!”

“That’s Switzerland, Shawn!” Gus cried, a hysterical laugh bubbling in his throat. 

“ _Och blodet blir utgjutet för hans heliga ord._ ” The chant rose and fell in cadence. One of the AAA members unsheathed a silver knife, cutting Gus free from the rope. Shawn struggled harder against his binds as Gus was dragged towards the crucifix.

“No! NO!” Shawn screamed, lurching forwards in his seat. He fell to the ground face first, the clatter of wood against concrete drowned out by the infernal mantra. “GUS!”

Gus was fighting against the AAA, but he was injured and they soon had him pinned to the wooden planks. Shawn saw a flash of a hammer, and that was all he needed – he knew where this was going next.

“Wait, STOP! My ovaries are tingling!”

One of the cloaked nutjobs raised the hammer, but it never had the chance to fall. 

Blinking away the panicked tears that had welled up in his eyes, Shawn watched in disbelief as one Buzz McNabb slammed the hammer-armed figure into the concrete wall. 

The Jokers burst into the room after him, viciously wrestling the AAA away from Gus. Lassiter and Juliet came last, both brandishing their weapons menacingly.

In a matter of minutes, all five AAA members were on the ground, unconscious. Buzz got up off of the floor where he’d been choke-holding one of them, and checked the member’s pulse. 

“...Freeze?” Lassiter said, out of habit. He hadn’t been able to get in a clean shot, but honestly, it didn’t seem as though he’d been needed. Buzz had swept into the room like a hurricane, and the Jokers had their own system of dealing with brawls.

Which was really all the rescue mission had turned out to be.

“Shawn, Gus! Are you okay?” Juliet asked, hurrying to untie Shawn. Lassiter checked Gus over for any re-broken ribs, but everyone appeared to be healthy and whole.

Well, everyone who wasn’t apeshit crazy, at least.

“Dude,” Shawn gaped at Buzz. “You Hulk-smashed that guy!” 

Buzz glanced over at the slumped figure he had flattened into the wall, eyes widening when he noticed the spider-like cracks he’d created with their head. Buzz hurried to check on them, sighing in relief when he realized they were still breathing.

“I think I broke this guy’s arm.” Esther said with a shrug, unconcerned. The Jokers dropped their respective opponents to the ground in synchronization. 

“Paramedics and back-up are on the way.” Lassiter informed them. Juliet gasped as she helped Shawn sit up, uncovering the bullet wound.

“Shawn, you’ve been shot!” Shawn laughed, adjusting his leg carefully.

“Tell me something I don’t know Jules.”

"You don't have ovaries.” Gus replied, garnering a strange look from everyone in the room. “What, he asked for something he didn’t know.”

"You can't prove that." Shawn countered carefully, after a moment of deliberation.

"The hell I can't!"

“I don’t even want to know.” Juliet declared.

***

  
**Officer To Be Given Medal of Honor for Heroics**   
By ROBIN WINTERS   


OFFICER BUZZ MCNABB of the Santa Barbara Police Department will be awarded with the S.B.P.D. Medal of Honor this week for his heroic actions in the rescue of two private detectives, local psychic SHAWN SPENCER and his assistant GURTON BOOSTER.

  
_“Buzz totally Hulk-smashed the guy!”_ Spencer, one of the kidnapped parties involved in the ordeal. _“Then he took out a second guy with a ninja choke. Buzz was channeling his inner Black Widow, I can tell.”_  


HEAD DETECTIVE CARLTON LASSITER has been working with McNabb for a majority of the Officer’s career, and McNabb’s willingness to put his life on the line comes as no surprise to his superior.

  
_“McNabb has always been a phenomenal cop.”_ Lassiter admits. _“He wants to help save people, and that’s what he’s doing.”_  


McNabb certainly is saving people – and he will continue to do so, according to CHIEF KAREN VICK.

  
_“Officer McNabb has worked with the S.B.P.D. for many years,”_ Vick states fondly. _“We are confident in him and confident in his abilities.”_  


This confidence does not ring false; Officer McNabb has proven his worth and is moving up in the ranks. 

We can all feel safe in our homes knowing Detective Buzz McNabb is on the job.

***

“I’m afraid this is adieu, boys.” Esther smiled, looking more like a teenager than Shawn or Gus had ever seen from her. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“You too.” Gus said honestly, and Esther’s smile morphed into a playfully amused smirk. Gus scratched the back of his neck, working up the nerve to ask his question.

“Uh, if you don’t mind me asking...” Esther raised an eyebrow curiously. “Wh-why do you, uh, well...”

“Why do I lead a gang of juvenile delinquents?” The young gang leader contemplated him seriously for a minute. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah.” Gus answered awkwardly. Esther leaned forward, gesturing at Gus to move closer so she could whisper to him.

He did as requested, feeling her lips brush against his ear. 

“It’s fun.” Esther grinned at Gus, all teeth. He couldn’t help but smile back – whatever Esther did, she had a kernel of good inside of her, and after all she had done for him, Gus figured that would have to be enough.

The teenager hopped over _Psych’s_ porch rail, jogging to the tree her bike was leaning up against. Ryan and Oliver nodded towards Gus, and after exchanging one final wave with the kids – and really, they were kids, not _hoodlums_ \- they departed.

“Do you think we’ll ever see them again?” Shawn asked, as cliché as it was, appearing behind Gus with an open beer. Shawn passed one to Gus, settling down next to him on the porch bench.

“Don’t know.” Gus took a swig of the beer, sighing. “With our line of work, it’s more than likely.”

“I hope we never have to catch them,” Shawn said after a moment, worry creasing his face. “They really fucked up the Arrogant Assholes Amalgamated. I mean did you see that one guy’s face? My delicate cheekbones can’t take that!”

At this, Gus burst out laughing. Of course Shawn would only be concerned with his self-proclaimed ‘devilishly handsome good looks’.  
When the laughter had subsided and they’d sunken into a comfortable silence – not something that often happened around Shawn, but something Gus treasured just as much as the running banter, the sleepless movie marathon nights, or Hell, even the one-sided fights Gus often put on, however futile they might be.

“I took my mom off my emergency contact list.” Gus started quietly, and Shawn’s eyes widened in shock. “Lassiter told me what she did.”

“Gus, I-” Shawn stuttered, but Gus cut him off.

“I told her you were the best thing that had ever happened to me.” Gus looked up at Shawn, making eye contact. “I meant it, Shawn. You _are_ the best thing that has ever happened to me. You’re the best thing that _will_ ever happen to me.”

“That’s...depressing.” Shawn commented. Gus leaned forward, completely serious.

“No, it’s not. It’s the truth. I wouldn’t trade the days I share with you for anything.” Shawn swallowed hard, staring at Gus.

“That’s really gay.” Shawn blurted out. “Just F.Y.I.”

Gus laughed. It looked like Shawn was back to his old self already. 

“Yeah well, I love you, man.”

The two sat in silence for a long minute, staring out at the beach. 

“Hey Gus?”

“Yeah?”

Gus turned to look at Shawn. The detective was holding out his fist, and Gus couldn’t help but smile as he bumped it for the first time in far too long.

Gus held out his beer, and they clinked their bottles together, a toast to their unbreakable friendship.

“I love you too.”

They drank.

***

**Author's Note:**

> **AN: Swedish translation -**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Och blodet blir utgjutet för hans heliga ord.  
>  =  
> And the blood will be shed for his holy word.**


End file.
